Until The World Goes Cold
by Cloud Auditore Fair
Summary: Perhaps greatness is like love, in the way that it finds you whether you like it or not. Between that and a burning galaxy atop her shoulders, it's hard not to wonder if Atlas ever shrugged.
1. Sleepwalking

**A/N:** A story on the self, relationships both platonic and romantic, and possibility.

This is something I've been wanting to do for a while, a slow burn and a long fic. Canon-typical warnings and a note from me that I want to show more on the emotional and mental impacts on characters.

Also, angst from Liara's unrequited love, and that may not be for everyone.

Happy N7 day.

* * *

Fire in her side. In her bones. Her mind couldn't pick out distinct thoughts. There were only sensations, and few of them. Her finger twitched. Maybe. She tried to lift her hand. Tried again. She couldn't even hold her breath to try focusing. An instinctual panic prepared itself, but she became aware of a noise.

A voice.

It was consistent and gave her something to ground herself, to try making sense of.

She'd gone in and out countless times before hearing her name once or twice and recognizing some lines from Macbeth.

" _This decision is a little bigger than us, don't you think, Shepard?"_

 _The doubt in Garrus' eyes as he stares past her at the rachni queen isn't something she faults him for. But politics would tie things up forever and they couldn't exactly stay and secure the queen. Shepard rolls a shoulder an asari commando nearly dislocated as she turns. Even now, Liara notices her, looks to her instead of her mother on the ground not three feet away. There's no doubt in wet, blue eyes and Shepard wishes there was. The gun in her hand killed Matriarch Benezia, someone much more capable than her._

" _They made me a Spectre for a reason." Shepard hits the panel harder than she needs to. Garrus sighs behind her but she just watches the queen go._

 _Wonders if failure will have her face a death like Benezia. Or worse._

She...felt. She felt warm. That wasn't right. But her mind couldn't find a reason why. Every time she began to close in on her last memory, it floated away. Her finger moved.

 _She's a soldier. She's a Spectre. She's seen enough things to become uncomfortably desensitized, but crawling out the Mako and seeing parts of the Citadel on_ fire _makes her heart stutter. Seeing Sovereign swipe a beam of literal death across one of the station's arms just to cut a cruiser in half makes her sick._

 _Seeing something like fear in Wrex's eyes as he stares at it too makes her blood freeze._

 _How many lives?_

 _Under Sovereign's control, the remains of Saren knocks the shotgun from her hands as it darts past._

 _Ashley screams behind her and Akuze fills her ears again._

 _Her biotics distract Saren from breaking through Ashley's armor._

* * *

The only light in the room came from the harsh blue of her screens. Chin on her fist, she reached for a cup without looking. Something in the report made her brow furrow, but then her whole face changed just before she spat the old coffee back into the cup. A sigh left her as she searched for the newest cup among those littering her desk.

Liara copied the file to a datapad and moved to the couch, swishing fresh coffee in her mouth to get rid of the bad taste.

People lived, and so they left a trail, left clues to their lives. She was an archaeologist, after all. Messy people made her job easy.

Had it become that? A job?

An honest laugh echoed throughout her apartment for the very first time. She tossed the datapad to the floor and raised her cup in a mock toast. Her smile was directed at the broken N7 helmet on a stand near her desk. "You'd announce yourself to an enemy you couldn't yet reach, too, wouldn't you? With more resources and security than you? Of course you would."

A much more bitter laugh made a dent in the silence as Liara halfway glared into her cup. "But would you love me now, Sam?"

* * *

 _The Normandy's on fire. And Joker's too damn stubborn to let her go._

 _Meanwhile Shepard's too stubborn to let him go._

 _Comms are a mess. Liara's herding everyone to the escape pods with Wrex's help._

 _Tali's arguing that she isn't getting in a pod without her to the point Garrus has to throw her over his shoulder. Shepard can't help smiling even as she looks at the massive hole torn through her ship._

 _She feels small._

 _Getting Joker out the cockpit is a shouting match and she ultimately fractures part of his leg but, dammit, he's part of her crew._

 _The Normandy and its pods go in and out of her vision, getting farther and farther away as she flips through vast emptiness._

 _There's no enemy to fight. No strategy to have. Her suit's compromised._

 _The cold is starting to burn._

 _She realizes the terror and frenzy of sound isn't just in her comms. It's her, too. She's screaming helplessly for her life. What parts of her vision aren't going black are blurred by tears and the fear's giving way to pain. Her lungs constrict._

 _She can't stop whatever hell is coming from her mouth, but she's Commander Shepard and her crew is her family. She breaks the comm link._

 _The Normandy's gone and so is she._

 _A failure._

She was screaming. She only realized when she heard other people shouting. Everything was white and she felt like someone had gutted her. Rearranged her insides and set them on fire. Swinging at whatever or whoever touched her arm created a tearing feeling at her shoulder when she made impact.

A rush of footsteps stopped at her right side and she managed to make a loose fist as she tried to focus on the blur above her, blocking out some of the bright light. They were saying her name.

"Stop, Shepard! I've got you. You're okay, Shepard, I'm here."

She knew that voice. She reached for them like they could keep the cold from her bones and tried to say something. Choked. They pried her fist off their coat and held her hand, shifting away. The light burned her eyes again before she felt a prick at the same arm.

They squeezed her hand.

"I've got you."

* * *

Pain meant she was alive.

Ringing filled Shepard's ears amid the rush of sound and her heart was beating too fast and the light above was enough to make her shield her eyes before she even opened them.

Everything was so white, so sterile.

Cold like her bones.

She rolled off the bed and dropped into a crouch, uncovering her eyes and squinting to take in the room as sounds started to finally make sense.

Explosions, gunfire, alarms, and shouting.

Not a good combination.

Her muscles burned.

"Shepard!"

For some reason, she looked up at one of the speaker units on the ceiling.

"You have to get moving. There's a gun in the locker, but little ammo."

She spun before standing and walking to the locker. It was unlocked and held a heavy pistol, but she didn't recognize the tech for it. The heat sensor wasn't the same.

 _You died._

Her back straightened with the thought and she swallowed the question of how long it'd been. How she was here. Even as that familiar voice urged her to hurry, she acknowledged it didn't matter.

"I'm Shepard," she said as she took up a position by the door. Her voice was rough.

There was a notable pause.

She entered the room. No hostiles. Still, she used a desk as cover and waited for whatever was causing the explosions in a nearby hall to come.

"I'm Operative Lawson. The security mechs have been hacked. I'll have to meet you at the shuttles on the other side of the facility and I'll try to find the lightest way there for you."

Eyes on the door, Shepard flexed her fingers.

"You're not supposed to be up yet, but your biotics should be fully functional. However, do try to limit use of them. Too much stress on your body is not a good idea. I have three signatures on your position."

And through the door they came.

Her biotics came faster, easier. The dark energy ripped them in half and left an ugly gash in the wall.

She was sweating.

Still, she crossed the room and scavenged for ammo. She walked and talked like the void of space hadn't consumed her. "What the fuck, Operative Lawson?"

Or maybe she did, considering her plain tone.

"We could just say you were upgraded. I'll answer all your questions on the shuttle."

"All of them?"

Shepard made it down two halls without encountering another mech.

"Yes."

Lawson gave her directions. Sealed some doors and opened others. Explained thermal clips in surprising depth.

Her aim got better, her movements more fluid.

Sometimes, when she shot down a mech, she saw the face of someone from Akuze horribly transplanted on its head.

Sometimes, during an explosion, she heard the rumble of Sovereign.

"Are you alright, Shepard? You've been exclusive," her voice cut off, "the pistol."

No. Everything was far too taxing to consider using biotics again. Her damn arm felt like it was going to come off. She used a wall for cover to catch her breath. "What's going on, Lawson?"

The first part was garbled at best. "—shuttle—closing in on my position."

And then Shepard was alone.

She tried to avoid comparing it to being lost in space.

She carried on, and a seed of self-doubt planted itself in the back of her mind when she felt indifferent about coming upon what was clearly a soldier of an outfit she despised. Not to say that she liked having her back to him.

It was more so that some part of her hoped Jacob shot her in the back.

Little did she know she'd actually watch someone get shot in the face within the hour.

Her gaze tracked Wilson's body as it dropped. She hadn't even raised her gun. She did, however, look up, and blue eyes held hers. They were cold and distant, but there was a type of fury there she could respect. A type of fury she recognized.

"Well?" Jacob knelt beside Wilson and closed his eyes.

Shepard hadn't even realized he'd said anything.

Lawson's head turned from Shepard sharply, as if he had insulted her. "Wilson reprogrammed the mechs and almost destroyed nearly two years of my work. Never mind trying to kill me. Meanwhile I'm certain you've already gone and told the Commander who we are."

"She deserves the truth, Miranda." He stood up, crossing his arms.

Shepard walked past them both and toward the shuttle. "As if I missed the Cerberus logos plastered everywhere, including my chest." It felt like it burned through the clothes and into her skin. But it reminded her of something. She spun on her heel and came to a stop so abruptly that Jacob looked around for a threat. "I was told my crew made it out, and I want confirmation on that, but that leaves me one pressing question before we get off this damn station."

Now Miranda folded her arms over her chest. Her hip canted out and she raised her chin just a little. In this moment she felt alive, real, a person with emotions, and Shepard got a flash of a memory of Miranda holding her hand when she could hardly control her body. Her confidence and her will leaked out, a barrier against the harshness of Shepard's voice, a barrier of her own will.

Shepard's cheek itched. She took half a step toward Miranda as she jabbed a finger at the top of her head. "What the hell is this?"

Blue eyes drifted up before settling on Shepard's face again, some of the ice replaced by thoughtful distance. "A mystery. I spent a few days trying to determine what caused the shift in your genetics to make your hair black instead of red, but it ultimately proved to have no adverse effects, so I had to prioritize my time with other things. I can't imagine the shock it gave you because seeing you with black hair after months of it being red made me drop my coffee."

There was something in the pinching of Miranda's eyebrows that spoke of frustration, of interest. Of honesty. It was enough for Shepard. Kind of.

"Yeah, you should've seen Miranda, Shepard. She banned everyone from your room for a month."

Miranda shifted then. Her indifference returned to her face and the air around her seemed colder.

Holding in a sigh, she rubbed her right shoulder and looked between them. "I hope I don't regret this, but what color are my eyes?"

"Green."

"Jade," Miranda said, and Shepard saw the slightest twitch of her eye like she'd revealed too much.

* * *

It was safe to say she didn't fully understand Commander Shepard. Hostility was to be expected. It was understandable, even.

But Shepard had simply been straight-backed and polite. No conversation beyond what was needed and any eye contact there had been seemed almost lazy if it wasn't for the distance in her tone. The only edge to her had been when Miranda pressed to check her memories and Shepard whispered a single, "Enough."

Well, there had been that and her meeting with The Illusive Man. Shepard's demeanor the entire time created a sense of surprise in her worth sharing a look with Jacob once they heard yelling. Honest fury.

Miranda noted it in a new file, along with the fact the red glow she'd seen on Shepard's face in the shuttle wasn't a trick of the light. It was in fact a gentle, red line across the left side of her jaw that Miranda speculated could be a result of complications from the cybernetics.

It wasn't a minute after that Miranda considered this mission could be a failure for the first time.

Choosing the Normandy's original pilot seemed like a sound idea, as he flew like no other and provided an anchor for Shepard.

A mistake.

The red on Shepard's face became insistent at the sight of him and he must've noticed it and Shepard's tight expression because his joke to break the ice fell flat. When her stride lengthened and her hands came to her sides instead of being behind her back, he came to a full stop. He brought his hand up in a salute and his mouth was a grim line like he expected her to break his legs instead of say hello.

She got so close her forehead touched his hat as she stared down at him. "I wouldn't have anyone else fly."

Then she spun around and asked if Miranda and Jacob were ready to go.

Miranda couldn't tell if Shepard despised Joker or not. She couldn't tell how Shepard felt about her. About being alive. About the mission.

There were too many variables for her to be comfortable.

She busied herself during the entire flight to keep a single thought at bay. Even as she checked her guns alongside Jacob and Shepard, she silenced herself. They touched down on Freedom's Progress and Miranda had fully locked away the idea that it bothered her to not know everything about Commander Shepard even though she'd dedicated the last two years of her life to her.

The mission was a blur of shooting drones and mechs, which wasn't a good sign. She was too focused on Shepard. Alive and breathing and _impressive_. And the woman was still adjusting so one could only imagine once she was used to her biotics and cybernetics.

It was her handiwork, but Shepard took it further. Made art with a shot or her biotics or even her boot. Where Miranda would've ducked down, Shepard stood, indomitable and unrelenting even as her shield flickered out.

Miranda wished she could see her face.

And one should always be careful what they wish for.

Shepard whipped off her helmet for Tali'Zorah. Came alive for Tali'Zorah.

The quarian whispered Shepard's name like a prayer before stepping close enough to do a scan of her body.

"It can't be. _You_ can't be."

Miranda was pulled from shutting down her own bitterness and certain thoughts she didn't like by Shepard turning to meet her eyes.

"Operative Lawson skipped a lot of sleep to piece me back together. And I do mean literal pieces."

She felt her lips part, but she didn't know what she wanted to say, or even the exact name for the feeling she had. She did, however, regain her composure and nod under Tali'Zorah's scrutiny. "I was in charge of rebuilding Shepard as close to...before, as possible."

"Shepard or a Cerberus robot?"

The retort died in Miranda's throat when she saw Shepard's eye twitch and just like that, her face slid back to the mask of indifference Miranda knew too well at this point.

Tali'Zorah cursed under her breath.

And Shepard was very well robotic for the rest of the mission.

* * *

After the debriefing, Miranda dragged her fingers over her eyes, but she still saw the mountain of reports on her eyelids. Somehow, she'd never fully thought about the logistics of the mission after Shepard woke up. Successfully rebuilding Shepard seemed like the biggest hurdle on this quest for the impossible. But this particular hurdle was one without a proper name, as Shepard didn't accept Cerberus as a means to an end, but she also didn't spit in their faces. You'd think it was a merge between corporations and an employee just working politely in their own bubble if it wasn't for the stakes.

Or Shepard's...distaste for The Illusive Man. It didn't make sense. She went to bat at anything he said, if the displeased message and precise instructions on watching Shepard she'd received from him was anything to go by. And yet the Commander didn't bark at them, so to speak.

However, there was a growing ruckus that drew her attention to the wall as if she could glare at the people on the other side. A small sigh left her as she reached for her cup, but she set it back down with a deeper one.

No coffee left.

Her door pinged, and she stared at it until the sound repeated itself.

The motion to press the button was almost mechanical.

Miranda Lawson's door slid open and Commander Shepard took exactly two steps in. She stood there like a soldier, gaze on Miranda while Kelly finally entered. They shared a look, Miranda's annoyed and Kelly's anxious, and those green eyes never traveled back in Miranda's direction. She folded her hands on her desk. "Is there a problem?"

"No! No," the laugh Kelly offered strayed far from the easy, cheerful demeanor she usually presented, "I was just telling the Commander that I would give her the tour of the ship since it was redesigned."

Blue eyes slid over to find Shepard looking at her as if she was waiting. Her face was relaxed, if indifferent. So Miranda looked back at Kelly. "Chambers?"

The yeoman was edging away from the both of them, out the room if Miranda had to guess. "I also suggested to the Commander to follow the usual protocol that no one comes to your office unless it's an emergency."

"So what's the emergency, then, and why is it taking so long for me to be informed about it?"

"There is no emergency," Shepard finally said.

And Miranda was still getting used to hearing her. Vids, especially after the Alliance got to making Shepard in their vision after her death, didn't do justice to her in person. Her voice was strong, quiet, a little husky, and made Miranda think of a current coming before you realized it and then being dragged under.

Shepard tilted her head toward Kelly, a lock of dark hair sliding forward and across her forehead as she did. "While I appreciate Yeoman Chambers' informative and helpful nature, I feel it'd be more fitting for my XO to show me around."

Miranda glanced between them. "This isn't the Alliance, Commander."

"Am I in charge of this mission?"

"The execution of it, yes."

"And your word carries weight directly after mine, right?"

For a moment, irritation started to burn in her throat, and she almost asked if the Commander enjoyed wasting time with questions she knew the answers to. But she backtracked, composed herself. There was something that entered jade eyes and it looked...mischievous. She would play along, if for no better reason than analyzing the puzzle in front of her. "That is correct."

"Then, Miss Lawson?"

Again, that feeling that Shepard was waiting. But she didn't know what for.

Even though Miranda noticed the twitch of Shepard's lips, she kept a straight face. Whatever Shepard was getting at couldn't be bad. It wouldn't make sense for her track record. She caught Kelly staring at her. "Then I am the XO of this ship, and as such, I will show you around your ship."

A smirk that didn't make sense. "Excellent. I'll wait outside until you've wrapped up whatever you're doing."

With that, Shepard turned on her heel and exited.

Miranda resumed typing as if Kelly wasn't there. "You heard the Commander."

Once more, the door to Miranda's office slid open and closed.

Her fingers froze before she settled her hands in her lap and leaned back, eyes on nothing. Mind, working.

Shepard hated Cerberus.

Miranda was Cerberus.

Shepard set her up with a power move.

Before she could begin to figure out the why of it, she would have to see if the gesture held weight, and what Shepard meant by it. So, she got up.

Shepard was just a few steps away from her office, hands still locked behind her back, and she turned at the sound of Miranda's door. "Ready, Miss Lawson?"

"I suppose a top to bottom approach would be most effective."

She received a nod, and noticed Shepard doing a slow turn as she walked over to fall into step with her. Pushing the button to go to Shepard's cabin was automatic, and didn't occur to her as possibly strange until afterward since Shepard slept there the whole way from the station to Freedom's Progress. She nearly filled the silence with facts about upgrades to the ship's design, but it wouldn't have been cohesive. However, talking about each floor as they went presented the possibility of glossing over something.

"It's faster."

Miranda glanced at her in her peripherals. "What?"

Shepard's boot tapped the metal below them and she didn't look over either, but she did chuckle. "The SR-1 might've been a technological wonder, but her elevator was like a drugged up snail."

Blue eyes went to the light indicating they were about to reach their destination and back down. Was she supposed to laugh? "Really."

"You would've hated it."

Instead of leaving the elevator and entering Shepard's quarters with facts spilling from her mouth, there was a line on her brow and she found herself stopping next to Shepard's little office and staring at the Commander's relaxed expression. "And how would you know that?"

The only response to the sharpness of her voice was a raised eyebrow. "Besides the fact everyone did? You're efficient and precise."

How easily Shepard made her feel like an overreacting fool. Of course, she didn't show it. Couldn't show it. She simply offered a single nod. "A fair point." Miranda passed her to stare into the empty fishtank. "It was noted that you enjoyed keeping fish, so we built a larger one into your wall."

"Larger? Into?" Shepard leaned into Miranda's vision with both eyebrows trying to reach her hairline. "It _is_ the wall. Why waste money on this?"

The smallest frown marred Miranda's expression. "Assuring your ease and comfort in the name of success is a small price. Especially considering the price of you."

Shepard straightened. Waited, Miranda identified once more.

"Commander, the Lazarus Project wasn't even finished when you woke up two days ago and Cerberus already spent more than four billion credits on you. Some of the technology didn't even exist before you."

Green eyes drifted away. Around the room. Came back to Miranda. "So, actual billions and two years of your life."

Miranda crossed her arms with a roll of her eyes, hip canting out. "Thankfully. Wilson was originally slated to be in charge and took one look at you before he said it couldn't be done. In fact, all he did was say the project would be a failure."

"And you didn't."

"Of course not. Failure isn't one of my interests."

"Naturally." It sounded like a thought that had escaped Shepard instead of part of the conversation.

"I certainly wouldn't say I failed." Her gaze traveled over Shepard and she felt her nose crinkle. "I simply wish I'd had more time."

Shepard leaned against the glass of the fish tank, eyes on the cycling water that was waiting for fish to make it home. "Perfectionist?"

Miranda's lips pressed into a line for a moment. "That's not the term I would use."

"So this must bother the shit out of you," Shepard muttered, knuckle rubbing against her jawline. She pushed off the glass to go back to the elevator. "And so the tour continues."

And so it did.

Miranda's heels clicked along the floor as Shepard walked alongside her. "You're familiar with the CIC, of course. However the design of this level changed to feature the armory, a research lab, and the usual things."

"Let's see them."

Her stride stalled. She looked away from the elevator. Instead of discovering Shepard waiting on her, she saw the Commander engaged in a conversation with a crewman who had happened to be walking by. So Miranda waited.

Which, in of itself, was strange. She didn't wait on anyone except for The Illusive Man.

She had so many reports to write and file and look through.

"XO Lawson."

Her eyebrow quirked before she even looked over. A little voice in her head told her to correct the Commander on her title, but she was busy deciding whether Shepard was being an annoying marine or a person with purpose. Still, when Shepard jerked her head, Miranda walked over to form a loose triangle with them. Familiarity with social etiquette told her she was standing too far away from them for a conversation but she didn't bother to correct it.

The crewman took half a step away, alternating between looking at Shepard, Miranda, and the elevator past them.

"James here just asked me something I think you'd have an answer to. Since, you know, I wasn't awake."

He winced under Miranda's gaze. "I never found anything on how extensive cybernetics could keep from interfering with a biotic amp. That's all."

"Project Lazarus cost far too much to simply divulge its secrets."

"Right, of course." James offered a weak goodbye to no one in particular before going around them to get to the elevator.

Just as Miranda refocused on Shepard and placed the pull on her mouth as disappointment, Shepard was walking again.

"This way to the lab, right?"

The visit to the lab held a few questions on Shepard's part, and she only nodded about them needing Dr. Solus aboard to finalize the inventory.

Stopping by the armory, however, had Miranda ready to pick up one of the rifles and hit herself in the face with it. Repeatedly. Listening to Jacob and Shepard swap a few Alliance stories wasn't on a list of her preferred activities. Hell, it never occurred to her as an activity.

Miranda was already in motion once Jacob saluted Shepard. The door to the CIC barely opened in time for her and she'd hit the button for the elevator before Shepard caught up, but the past fifteen minutes had been a touch interesting.

She'd expected Shepard, a marine to the bone, the Alliance's poster girl, to openly detest Jacob for _choosing_ to leave. In favor of Cerberus, no less.

But no, Shepard listened intently to Jacob's reasoning and threw yet another wrench into the conclusions Miranda had drawn with a single nod.

Two years of Commander Shepard being her life.

And she couldn't even accurately predict the damn woman.

Upon exiting the elevator, Miranda simply pointed at the medbay and waited outside for Shepard to inevitably catch up with Dr. Chakwas.

What was the use of reports or informants or _two years_ if they didn't give genuine insight into Commander Shepard? What misinformation had she received and how long until she realized it?

A simple fact she never managed to discover popped into her head like a taunt. It was the nail in the coffin.

Miranda knew her physically like no one could ever hope to, but her herself?

Shepard was a different person than she had been painted.

Intimidating. Relentless. Good. Driven. Strong. Capable. Honorable.

These things were true, but, going off the reports and seeing her in person, they were selective.

"What is it?"

"You're a bloody icon," Miranda repeated from a different conversation. She kept on autopilot, walking to one of the doors for the engineering area, and even stepping through before she stopped.

Donnelly and Daniels were staring at her, hands frozen above their keyboards.

Instead of acknowledging them, Miranda turned back around to see what happened to her companion who was no longer beside her.

It took a moment, but Shepard joined her with an impassive expression.

"Why did you stop?"

Only after Shepard cocked her head did Miranda notice she was clenching her jaw.

"You stopped. After asking."

"You answered." Shepard breezed past her to introduce herself to the usually loud engineers.

And Miranda replayed their conversation while standing nearby in case Shepard called on her again. Though, she hadn't on the last deck.

It wasn't long before Miranda pulled herself into the real world to go with Shepard again, but she paused. Watched Shepard walk toward the eezo core before deciding to follow. Her biotics thrummed just under her skin, or maybe that was just the core itself being so loud and so close. Either way, she felt it down to her bones. As Shepard's silence persisted, Miranda's gaze moved to her.

The light created a blue tint to everything, and Miranda found herself noting Shepard would look good with dark blue hair. She also noted the ease in Shepard's stance was false. Her shoulders were too high up to be relaxed, and as wave after wave of blue cascaded over them, the tension in her jaw became apparent again.

"Why didn't you ask Tali'Zorah to join you?"

 _Does it not matter as long as you find someone to fill the technical role? Why was taking off your helmet so important? What data did you give her and why isn't there a report? Are you friends or merely fond colleagues? What was that tension?_

To keep from voicing her thoughts, to keep from showing too much interest, Miranda lifted her chin a little. It doubled as prompting Shepard to answer her question.

It worked. Shepard shrugged, and her shoulders nearly sagged afterward. Her voice, however, was firm. "She's busy."

"Too busy to help you undoubtedly stop the reapers? How would you know without asking?"

"Tali has a lot to do in this life." Shepard leaned forward, bracing her hands on the rail, and jerked her chin forward. "It's easily double the size as the last one."

"Two point five times, to be precise."

"So who first?"

"Commander?"

Green eyes looked back and an eyebrow lifted as a lock of hair fell into her face. "The dossiers."

Miranda felt a line between her eyebrows deepen. "Have you not decided?"

Shepard stared at her for so long she almost looked behind herself to see if someone else was there. But she managed to just wait on Shepard while Shepard possibly waited on her.

"I'm asking for your opinion."

"You've clearly expressed you're uninterested in the opinion of Cerberus on anything."

"I'm not asking Cerberus."

Stupid marine. Miranda never should've considered she would be anything else. "Shepard, I _am_ Cerberus."

"No." Shepard pushed off the rail to properly face her. The tightness of her jaw almost seemed like it was highlighting the red glow across her face, stretching the skin there to tear it open. "You're a person, aren't you, Miss Lawson?"

Her arms crossed and she thought she heard the crackle of biotics, but Shepard's were inactive so it must've been the eezo core playing tricks on her. She _built_ this woman, brought her back from the dead when there was barely enough of her to bury. The least Shepard could do was respect her. "You're a person but you're so fast to beat your chest and bark that you're Alliance, Commander. Don't be a hypocrite."

With the soft glow of the core behind her, the red streak on Shepard's jaw seemed brighter than ever. Her spine could've snapped for how tall she stood and a guess that the hands behind her back were in fists was probably a good one. Commander Shepard was unmoving, not even breathing. Meanwhile, Miranda tapped her fingers against her own arm as if she was bored to mask a feeling settling into the back of her neck that was something like discomfort.

Unease.

"Everyone on this ship has mentioned the Alliance more than me. I've mentioned two people in it I want to contact." Shepard exhaled slowly and Miranda expected her to do the stupid show of dominance common to marines as she started moving. But Shepard never made to walk over her. She just went by her like they'd had a regular conversation. "The word you're looking for is bitter."

"I'm not—" Miranda halted, halfway turned around to drag the argument, and she stared down at herself.

Miranda Lawson's hands were engulfed in biotics that crawled up her forearms.


	2. Shaking Off Dust

Thoughts of coordinating with Dr. Chakwas on a check-up because of the fact Shepard pretty much slept whenever they weren't actively on a mission so far vanished from Miranda's mind the moment she set foot on the cesspool of cesspools. Her nose crinkled and she heard Jacob sigh after looking at her, but she chose not to acknowledge it.

EDI's voice came over the comms, "Mordin Solus' status is—"

"Hold that thought." Shepard waved them forward with two fingers as she walked up to a batarian leaning against a wall. A wall dark with age or possibly blood. "What can I do for you?"

"Stand still."

Miranda moved in front of Shepard when he brought up his omnitool. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," he said, focusing his eyes on her for just a moment before tapping on his keyboard again. "Move so I can scan her."

"For what purpose?"

"Lawson."

She looked over her shoulder to fix a quick glare on her and barely caught sight of Jacob's tired face in the process. "What? You think I invested so much in you just for random people to come up to you and do what they like?"

"Aria wants to make sure this is the right Commander Shepard and I like breathing."

"This _is_ Commander Shepard."

Another ship docked farther down.

"Doesn't look like her."

A slew of information about the change in Shepard's hair color was half a second from charging out of Miranda's mouth when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. It gave her a gentle push to the side, and she let it. Still, this didn't sit well with her. The quarian was one thing, but everyone and their damn hamster couldn't just scan Shepard whenever they felt like it.

"Miranda."

Out of her peripherals, she might've glared at Jacob as he stepped up to her side.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel fine, Jacob."

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes rolled before she turned her head to him and made the eye contact he'd been waiting on the entire time. "Just say what you want to say, Jacob."

"You're off, Miranda. I don't know what it is, but it's messing up your game."

"My game is absolutely fine, Jacob."

He looked around them even though Shepard and the batarian were out of earshot. Then he dropped his voice and leaned toward her with honest eyes. "You can tell me what you're worried about. You don't have to do everything alone and this is way too serious for you to lead with your pride."

Her eyes moved away from him then.

A sigh dragged out of his lungs and she could hear him take in a breath to go about a rougher approach, but Miranda simply walked away from him to meet Shepard half way while the batarian left.

Even though her eyes moved between them for a moment, Shepard ignored the tension and jerked her head to the side. "We're going to meet up with Aria for a second."

EDI beat Miranda to speaking. "It is highly encouraged to be a quick detour. The state of Mordin Solus is currently unknown, though we could tentatively infer he is alive because there is no news. However, the plague is running rampant and has been for some time."

"And Archangel?"

"Last report was thirteen hours ago. The gangs have started open recruitment of mercenaries to help storm his base." There was a pause. "He has been there, under constant attack, for four days."

Jacob's eyebrows rose. "Any stims he's taking must be taking a toll as much as they help."

Miranda looked away from a ship flying by to find green eyes on her. Waiting. She cleared her throat. "Given his reputation and the situation, I would wager he's as likely to die from heart failure as a bullet."

A half shrug from Jacob in Miranda's direction. "Our priority _is_ the doctor, though. Archangel could die any minute or before we get there. Or even be useless to us if he survives. Meanwhile the doctor could also die any minute. And if he can't come up for something for those swarms, we don't have a chance."

Blue eyes rolled to the flickering light above them. "If a former STG member was going to die, I'm certain he would've done it already, what with the chaos of firefights from gangs or the deadly _plague_ , Jacob."

"You mean the one he could catch any minute?"

"Fair points on both sides." Shepard spun around and started walking up the dimly lit corridor. "If Dr. Solus is capable of helping us with those swarms, he can avoid a plague."

Miranda frowned at her back. "That's not how that works, Shepard."

But the commander just waved a hand at nothing.

As they entered the main area of Omega, Shepard spared the place one, sweeping glance, her stride never slowing on her way to the blazing lights of Afterlife. She bypassed the line curling around the block and ascended the stairs and at last paused when an elcor bouncer turned from a desperate human to regard her.

"Aria's expecting you." Then he turned back to the human who'd taken to yelling that Aria was expecting him too. "I'm going to break your legs and roll you to the back of the line."

Jacob nodded to no one in particular while they waited for the door to open. "Guess he doesn't have to state his tone if he only uses one."

The doors hissed open and the music of Afterlife promised to rattle their bones and beat in their chests once they reached its core.

Some batarian took one look at them and decided to puff his chest, probably yelling at the top of his lungs to make sure they heard him as well as his companions. Miranda couldn't begin to list all the things wrong with his claim at being able to "kick the ass of humanity's best at this shithole."

Pathetic.

The very second Shepard stalled in front of him, rocking back and forth midstep with a small tilt to her head like she'd heard the buzz of a bee she couldn't see, Miranda knew she would have to throw out any and all the psych profiles and reports she'd copied from the Alliance.

Jacob's curious, "Commander?" was lost in both the surrounding music and the batarian joking that someone was trying to have a bad day.

Shepard halfway turned to him then. She stared long enough to make him jerk his shoulders up and cross his arms while his companions touched their pistols. She stared long enough to make Miranda consider moving closer to see her eyes.

"Got something on your small mind?"

Miranda had to strain to hear what came next, and even then, part of it was filling in with a guess at Shepard's words.

"Don't know why you're asking for a bad day."

The batarian's focus moved between Shepard and them and back again before he studied the floor.

Without looking at him, Shepard reached out to unholster his pistol...and dropped it to the floor.

Miranda wished she could openly begin constructing notes and theories on what major events with Shepard were altered in records and how as they walked away. She also wished she had someone who intimately knew Shepard available to properly determine what was actually a change in Shepard's behavior or what fit into expected parameters.

For now, as the full strength of Afterlife's music pounded against them and they circuited the large dance area, Miranda committed to throwing out anything she couldn't personally verify as a fact about the Commander and to form expectations as they went.

For example, was the fact Shepard didn't really look around the place a show of her professionalism, honest disinterest, or what? The club was genuinely impressive and catered to a variety of interests. Not even all of Miranda's visits here had been strictly business.

It was another minute or so before they went up a small flight of stairs to what basically passed as Aria's throne. On the landing, another batarian stopped them, bringing up his omnitool, but Shepard pushed his arm down and went around him. She took the last stairs up to Aria, who was sitting on one of her couches with open arms across the back of it and legs crossed wide.

Such a clear power display.

While Miranda saw the use of them, she still had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

Shepard locked her hands behind her back and bowed her head. "You asked for me?"

Aria's head tilted to the side, her gaze roving over Shepard. "You obliged."

Whether it was the words themselves or the fact Shepard's presence had been a clear demand, she looked to the side at nothing for a moment and Miranda caught a glimpse of a smirk.

Amusement. Interesting.

"As if I could refuse someone so...impressive."

Careless, Aria's hand flipped over in a vague gesture for her company to sit.

Instead of taking up the offer on the neighboring couch, Shepard sat at the end of Aria's. The change in Aria's face was small. Distinct. Distinct like Shepard's cocked eyebrow and the shift in tone. "As if I could keep from inviting someone so impressive."

Jacob leaned very slightly toward Miranda, eyes still on the two on the landing above them. "You're seeing this, right?"

Well, that destroyed the possibility Miranda was getting the wrong impression from the situation.

And then it was gone. A twist came to Aria's lips as her gaze traveled and her fingers bounced on the top of the couch. "Someone so impressive they escaped death. I'm sure you understand my need to make sure it was actually you. Anybody could've been wearing your skin."

"Naturally."

"So—not that your answer matters—escaper of death or Cerberus plaything?"

It almost felt like the music stopped when Shepard's expression became like the one on Freedom's Progress. Except, colder. She didn't say anything when Aria looked at her, held her gaze.

From here, under Afterlife's ever-shifting lights and wild hues, Miranda could see the glow of cybernetics under Shepard's skin.

Aria murmured something. Then she rolled her head about her shoulders and held out her left hand. Once she was given a datapad, she tossed it toward Shepard. "Information on your Archangel and your doctor that might help."

Shepard didn't look at it. "In return?"

"The Blue Suns are in charge of hiring thugs. Downstairs." She accepted a drink from a dancer and shook it idly, watching the light play on it. "If I were you, I would hurry."

It was probably the lightest dismissal Aria had ever given. And Shepard went about it quietly. Coming down to the landing, green eyes didn't look at either of them, but she did hold the datapad out to Miranda without breaking stride. That is, until Aria called her name.

"Has anyone told you the only rule of Omega?"

"Let me guess." Shepard looked over her shoulder. "Don't fuck with Aria?"

A smirk graced them. "Aria T'Loak, at your service."

* * *

Looking at Shepard's helmet was throwing Miranda off. Light played off it and left spots in her eyes sometimes and the visor was tinted so she could only guess at Shepard's expressions. Which was, frankly, difficult at this point. Especially in the dark of the skycar.

She exhaled slowly through her nose and shook her head a little. So much depended on this mission, this mission where the person leading left her spinning in circles. Left her clueless. When Miranda began to turn her gaze to her own window, she caught Jacob's knowing stare.

Rather, what he thought was a knowing stare.

He didn't know a damn thing and it was only annoying.

She watched the buildings fly by and tried to think of a place more dreary, more hopeless, and more disgusting than Omega. By the time they landed, she hadn't come up with one.

The skycar took off without them and Miranda walked after Shepard. Jacob, however, vanished from her peripherals and she only rolled her eyes. Maybe he would get over his issue instead of causing A Talk.

"Commander."

In a last ditch effort, Miranda didn't stop alongside Shepard.

"What is it, Jacob?"

It took a lot for Miranda to keep from sighing and tapping her foot. She watched steam coil out of a pipe against the nearby building and up into the dark "sky." Omega really looked like it might shut down if they invested in more lights. Maybe it would.

"What's the plan?"

The question registered as stupid enough that Miranda glanced back at them. Sometimes Jacob wore a neon sign that said he was a tight-laced soldier. You could take a soldier out the Alliance but you could never take the Alliance out of the soldier. The thought drew her gaze to Shepard.

"Well," Shepard paused and her shoulders rolled the tiniest bit, causing Miranda to wonder at her expression. "We go see what _they_ have planned, and then we go from there."

A tightness came to Jacob's mouth and he nodded, but it wasn't honest.

Shepard's stride was longer when she started walking again. Close to stomping, if Miranda wasn't mistaken.

They passed a checkpoint with some Blue Suns members playing cards and got some directions.

Miranda moved on autopilot, even with the gunfire in the distance. Had Shepard been annoyed at the situation or Jacob's question? If the latter, was it over Jacob's need for control or the fact she was questioned at all?

Blue eyes slid over to the tall, straight-backed figure in N7 armor just ahead of her.

Commander Shepard didn't seem the type to feel disrespected over simple questions. If she was, there's no way she could've stopped Saren with the crew she had. Hell, one of the facts Miranda knew for sure was that Urdnot Wrex had pointed a pistol at Shepard's face and questioned their relationship and her intentions and the woman hadn't even reached for her own gun.

A shoulder plate got dangerously close to Miranda's face as she nearly walked into Shepard.

This checkpoint had an Eclipse member and a Blood Pack merc staring at them and Miranda realized she'd missed something.

Jacob's voice came from behind her. "What's the problem, exactly? We're guns. Just like you."

The two shared a look and the krogan snorted, but it was the salarian who pointed. "The problem is the anomaly. What's an N7 doing here? Don't you have important human things to do? You know, with the Alliance?"

One of Shepard's hands fell to her hip. "You think the Alliance pays enough? Why are you two buddy-buddy? Your groups hate each other."

The opposing gang members looked at each other before pointedly going back to their game of cards.

Carefully stepping past boxes and ammunition crates, Miranda's lips moved without thought. "Nicely done, Shepard."

She looked at Miranda for a moment, reason and purpose impossible to know with that tinted helmet.

And then they were off again, in a game of pretend and information gathering. Apparently the general plan was to throw freelancers at Archangel on a suicidal killing ground until the groups broke through the tower's defenses to get to him. Shepard didn't pause at the revelation and whether that was reassuring or concerning, Miranda didn't know.

They also had to bypass more than a few bodies Archangel had managed to get a shot at even with the barricades during downtime from attacks.

At one or two points they wandered individually to see what damage they could do to make their job easier or what they could use to their advantage.

Miranda's own discovery reminded her of a heartless chess move, and the possible death toll occurred to her, but she moved off that thought.

It took her another ten minutes to find Shepard. After hearing her voice, Miranda ducked under half of an impromptu curtain to enter the back area with an open space in the wall and realized it was a makeshift garage.

"You ask too many questions for a freelancer." This voice was rough and his pronunciation sounded off, like he had something in his mouth.

And Miranda wasn't sure where he was until she rounded a corner and saw Shepard sitting atop a crate in front of a gunship, looking down.

The ship had a rather large cannon. Custom work.

Shepard's helmet turned as the click of her boots sounded on a metal grating she stepped on. The visor's tint faded just long enough for Shepard to bounce her dark eyebrows twice. Miranda tilted her head in silent question, but Shepard turned back to her conversational partner. "Maybe."

"There's no maybe about it." A batarian slid out from under the gunship with a huff and stood, dusting himself off. He flicked some ash from his cigarette and only spared Miranda a glance.

"Do your job and get paid. That's all. You look like you might actually live."

When he went past them on the way to his work table and neither of them said anything else, Miranda took it as a sign they were about to leave and turned. But the silence from Shepard made her turn back with a question on her tongue.

Instead, as the mechanic doubled back, Shepard said, simply, "You won't."

"What—"

Something shot forward in Shepard's grip and connected with the base of his spine. Electricity shook him.

He dropped.

Shepard slid off her crate and set the tool back down before extinguishing his cigarette.

As was becoming custom, she jerked her head for Miranda to follow. And Miranda did so, but she couldn't help wondering if that was incredibly cold of the commander, or sadistic. It was effective, quick, and clearly helpful by having the gunship out the picture.

Yet it _bothered_ her.

And it bothered her further because wouldn't she have done the same?

* * *

The roar of a thresher maw echoed over a dozen others. A twitch, a shake of her head and it was gone.

Still, however, was the scream of space in her ears. The icy grip of it on her heart.

She clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth produced a small screech as they grated against each other.

Still, however, she kept on. Normal. A regular stride. Her voice sounded regular.

Regular and normal.

Jacob nodded to her. He didn't like their plan, she could tell, but he seemed more at ease with everything clarified. Storming a killing ground before turning on the people beside them and dashing into a tower to be trapped wasn't nearly as suicidal as stopping the Collectors.

She didn't directly look at Operative Lawson, though. She couldn't. Her visor was tinted, but she still felt so exposed under the intensity of that blue stare. It was serious. A life-threatening type of serious. And it was almost always accompanied by a scowl, or at least what Shepard felt was a scowl. It made her hyperfocused on her game of pretend. It made her wonder what she had done to offend the woman.

Then she remembered the glow of biotics in the engine room. But Lawson didn't seem the type to be hung up over such a small thing.

Her lungs felt cold and she choked. Coughed.

The sound of metal on metal rang out as someone hit her back gentler than she was used to. "You okay, Shepard?"

"Yeah." She couldn't remember the last time she had been. Or maybe she did. A swarm of laughs filled her ears and she saw Kaidan Alenko's rare smile. One last cough. "Thanks, Jacob."

They'd reached a group—the next charge—and a very detached salarian was giving the most half-assed directions from atop a box Shepard had ever heard. She took the opportunity to spin on her heel and address...her team? These two people in an organization she hated? Someone who she could understand and someone who had spent days and nights and countless hours laboring over making sure she would be who she was supposed to be?

Who was she supposed to be?

 _You died._

"Commander?"

She lifted her head but chose not to directly look at either of them, but rather between them. Taking in a large breath let her shake off the irritation over his concern, genuine or not. Without turning her head, she could see that serious stare and that vague scowl. "So we all know the game plan. We all know how badly we need to get in and get out. Remember, Jacob's staying downstairs and laying suppression fire like there will never be another day—"

"Won't it be strange for me to take one of these? Also, how?" He nodded his head toward an ammunition crate.

She stared at it like it would eventually grow a head. Then she knelt and scooped some clips out of it and thrust them into his hands. "Well, I figured there would be enough bodies for you to find plenty of ammo, but, well. Here." Why were they having this conversation? "I believe in you."

"And the dozens of clips on that bridge and at the entrance of the tower," Miranda added dryly as she leaned a bit around a barricade to get a better look at the topic of their conversation.

"I'm just saying there's a ton of mercs and mechs and freelancers this side of the bridge."

"It wouldn't be _forever_ , Jacob."

Shepard frowned within her helmet, some memory tugging at her, but it was all blurred shapes and whispers.

"I'll do my best, Shepard."

She hoped so. He might die or complicate an already concerning mission otherwise. But she just nodded at him.

A glance at Miranda told her there were no concerns to be found from her, but rather a simple boredom. Shepard would've found it distasteful if she hadn't seen the woman in action. And that very same flicker of distaste made her heart beat faster with an onslaught of memories. Flashes meshed together of gunshots and laughter and blue blood and sighs and heated arguments next to the Mako.

"Commander?"

Some freelancer yelled for their salarian speech-giver to hurry up and he just waved his hand for them to go. Perfect timing for Shepard as she turned back around and took deep breaths and tried to shake off her thoughts.

Miranda mumbled something about people being in a rush to die.

The door to the main barricade was opened and they poured out alongside the group, gunshot after gunshot already ringing out. It felt so artificial, not really shooting at anything as they jumped over bodies twisted and bloody and broken from too many hopeless assaults. A bullet slammed into her barrier, right over her visor. She looked up at Archangel at his perch, a lull in his endless distribution of death as they stared at each other. One dark visor, one bright blue visor. There was a sick crunch under her boot, but she still didn't look away.

He was waiting for her.

He lowered his head, aiming.

Another bullet right over her visor.

As he went back to his dirty work, Miranda yelled, "What kind of slugs are those?"

"Heavy ones," Jacob answered.

A freelancer that had been almost keeping up with them dropped from a lone bullet, proving Jacob's point.

Once they were three-fourths of the way across, Shepard and Miranda stopped to release a barrage of biotics. Archangel fired faster than he had the entire time they'd been there, undoubtedly overheating his rifle as he helped mow down the current assault team. Whether it was panic or confusion or suspicion, some of the freelancers fired on each other, too. Once Jacob's gun started up, though, Shepard and Miranda turned and ran for refuge just inside the tower.

No more shots from above them.

It only took another minute or two to finish off the stragglers.

"Everyone all good?"

"Affirmative."

Jacob began kicking a small, curved piece of a table over to the low wall he planned to use for cover. "Are you? Our boy was shooting at you."

"He got me once with a dummy round half an hour ago, too. Scared the shit out of the mercs."

While Miranda hummed, Jacob paused in dropping spare clips into his makeshift bucket. He stared far too hard at the clips in his hand. "That's weird. You think it's because of the N7 armor he picked you out?"

"Let's go ask instead of speculate."

Shepard could agree on that, and so she did by trotting off. Across the spacious room that had been hastily torn apart for defense purposes with random barricade set ups and points of cover and a few pockmarked areas from some people that had actually made it across the bridge. No further, though, as Shepard saw their bodies were dragged into the kitchen.

The fact Archangel was good about controlling his area certainly appealed to Shepard. Now if only he would survive this without any complications on his heart or something else.

Up the stairs and going along the hallway, she found herself stalling, slowing down to stare at a plant. It was ugly and plain in an ugly and plain pot, but it was unscathed. Amid all this chaos and death, it remained unaffected and simply continued on.

Boots with a tiny heel clicking onto tile behind her.

The faint beeps and whirrs of the door unlocking ahead of her.

Her feet brought her to the door just as it began to slide open.

She didn't break stride. Her eyes began to cast around the wide room but Archangel stole her attention and brought her to a stop. He was sitting on the back of the couch, rifle across his lap in a tight grip, a shaking grip. The blue of his visor might've burned her tired eyes and made her heart ache if it wasn't for her own tinted visor.

The sound of clicking stopped off to her side, just behind her. "Archangel? We can discuss the details after extraction, but we were hoping we could recruit you in a mission to stop the Collectors."

His head didn't so much as twitch.

Visor to visor.

"I'm taking that as a soft 'no' due to lack of rest."

At last, he moved. A rush of motion. Uncoordinated as his hand swung his rifle too wide and his left leg shook and his steps were a staggering drift to the side before he corrected himself. His stop was as abrupt as Shepard's had been, but less controlled as he leaned forward in a wobble for just a moment.

There was a gentle crackle of biotics just behind Shepard.

Archangel brought up his free hand and touched the same spot on her visor that he'd shot twice. He tapped it.

Her heart was in her throat with a feeling she couldn't understand, but, still, Shepard reached to undo the latches on her helmet. It slid off and, sure enough the bright blue of the visor did burn her eyes and make her heart ache as she craned her neck to look at him. She took a deep breath. "I understand the Cerberus logo would—"

Rifle clattering to the floor, his hands jumped to his own helmet but they fumbled and fumbled again to create soft, metal rings in the air each time.

Shepard's eyes stung as she rose to her tiptoes and yanked on the cusp of his armor to bring him lower and swatted his hands away to mess with his helmet.

"C—Commander?"

She barely heard Miranda. The helmet came off and flew out of her hands in the same instant to fly back toward the door.

Her vision blurred at the bright, blue eyes burning into her. Garrus Vakarian's mandibles were flaring almost uncontrollably in every direction and she felt her own mouth twitching and quivering. She swallowed. A breath shook her. Ghosted out of her in what might've been more of a sob than a chuckle. "You ugly bastard."

The weight of him suddenly crashing into her made her stumble back. It was as much a struggle to support him as to wrap her arms around him as she briefly thought he'd passed out.

"What's the plan?"

"I was hoping you had one."

" _I_ thought we were all supposed to form a plan together, Shepard."

She could feel that gaze searing her armor, but not as much as she felt remotely safe for the first time in what felt like years. Her bones ached like the end of the SR-1 was millennia ago. So she just laughed.

Garrus laughed too, one of his mandibles catching in black hair as he made no effort to move. His voice rumbled into her ear with an audible smile. "Sounds like Plan E."

"Unless you or Lawson have any ideas."

"What the hell is Plan E? You cannot possibly have a plan for every letter."

"Only to...what's that human letter?"

"Human, English letter, Garrus. It's—"

"I'm sorry we turians are too efficient to have hundreds of languages."

"It's F, you liar."

Garrus lifted his head from Shepard's shoulder to finally look at Miranda, some hair still caught on his mandible. "We only have plans through the letter F, Lawson."

Shepard snorted.

Impassive, blue eyes moved between them slowly.

"There's a tunnel out of here."

"Mercs are trying to break through it."

"Oh." He laid his head back on Shepard's shoulder, his arms just dangling at his sides even as he still swayed. "Then I don't have a plan."

Jacob's voice came over the comms, "We've been all clear for too long. I don't like it at all. Is Archangel all good?"

Shepard slapped her hands against Garrus' sides once before starting to push him off and only stopping to free her hair from him. She watched him wobble.

"Commander, I'm not certain he's up for another gunfight."

"I'm gunfight!" He shook his head. One hand settled on Shepard's shoulder for support as he jabbed a finger past her and at Miranda. "I'm up for another gunfight! It's just the stims."

"Yes, and exactly how many have you taken?" In his silence, she crossed her arms and ignored Shepard's gaze. "Or, how long ago did you disable your suit's safety protocols for overdoses?"

Garrus looked back down at Shepard and tapped the side of her head to get her attention. "I don't think I like her."

There was a sniff from Miranda's direction. "That's fine."

Green eyes rolled as she wondered just how argumentative Miranda could get. She was opening her mouth to hand off directions when Jacob asked again about the status of Archangel. Instead, she gave him a short answer before struggling to turn around due to Garrus halfway leaning on her. She huffed. "Is he always like that?"

Miranda gave Shepard a tired look.

Jacob shouted a warning right before the gunshots started.


End file.
